


wanna give you more than just the person that I was

by unwindmyself



Series: follow me down the rabbit hole [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Collars, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/F, Femslash, Orgasm Delay, Overstimulation, Porn with Feelings, Queening, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Simmons was so attentive, it's only fair that patient Skye return the favor in the way that's just so perfectly them (and accidentally or on purpose dive right into some sentimentality in the process).</p>
            </blockquote>





	wanna give you more than just the person that I was

**Author's Note:**

> So, funny story. Originally when we heard that Sif was going to be on the show, we were absolutely convinced that Sif was gonna hit on Jemma (because of that great missed opportunity for the joke of "all Asgardians think Jemma is the prettiest ever") and then Skye was obviously going to have to get possessive and that would lead to this sort of scene. But Sif didn't hit on Jemma and anyway Skye was still recovering from a near-death experience, so instead this is what got written.

Dr. Simmons’ very official post-near-death-experience health regimen dictates that if Skye’s been training for more than a couple of hours she pop into the lab for a quick check-up, which would be cute if it wasn’t also a total buzzkill. Skye gets the point, though, and hey, it’s an excuse for a few seconds of one-on-one with her girlfriend, which Skye is gladder and gladder of the healthier she feels.

It’s during one of these visits that, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs childishly, while Jemma’s busy writing something or another on her clipboard, that Skye offhandedly asks, “Official prognosis, doc, am I in good enough health for sexual activity?”

Jemma immediately goes red and drops her pen. Apparently she hadn’t been expecting that.

“I mean, I really do think it’d make me feel better,” Skye continues airily.

“Provided you – you don’t – well, I don’t see what the problem would be, really,” Jemma murmurs. “If you’re careful.”

“Well, good thing you’ll be there to supervise me,” Skye returns, batting her eyelashes.

Before she can say anything further, Ward pokes his head in. “Are we done for the day?” he asks.

“Nah,” Skye says. “I’ve still got energy to spare, let’s do this.” She hops off the counter, heads toward the door, but there’s no mistaking her meaning when she turns her head and grins at Jemma, mouths, “Tonight, honey?”

Jemma’s too startled to do anything but nod.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t say anything when she steps into Skye’s bunk, but Skye knows she’s entered, even if she doesn’t acknowledge her outright. That’s fully intentional, and what it does is tell Jemma exactly how they’re playing tonight (as if she really had any questions).

Finally, in a voice so soft it’s barely audible, Jemma says, “H-hello.”

Skye turns around, eyebrow raised. What it means is _hello what_?

“Hello, ma’am,” Jemma corrects sheepishly, lowering her gaze.

“Hi, honey,” Skye replies and just like that they’ve slipped very definitely into their roles. “Undress for me.” Not _please_ , no _maybe_ , nothing like that.

And Jemma obliges. She had the foresight to change into proper lingerie before she came, though the little apron of it is wrinkled from being bunched under her jeans and needs straightened out. She doesn’t feel nearly so polished as if she had more time to prepare, but she thinks that maybe that’s part of the point.

“Good girl,” Skye croons, looking her girlfriend over with an unabashed hunger as she peels her own clothes off. “Now. Bed. Kneeling.”

Jemma’s quick to do this too, wide-eyed and almost shy. There are no pleasantries right now, no hesitation. There’s only business, laced with a dark, warm desire. The instant Jemma’s settled into a pose that’s comfortable enough, Skye’s up beside her, brushing fingertips across her bare legs.

“I admit,” she murmurs, leaning to rest her chin on Jemma’s shoulder. “It’s kinda nice getting to be the one bossing you around again, instead of the other way around.”

“Oh!” Jemma squeaks. “I was only doing to – to keep you…”

“I know,” Skye says. “I get it. I’m still grateful, you know, that hasn’t changed. But I figure… well.” She lets her hand travel down Jemma’s inner thigh. “Turnabout is fair play, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jemma says immediately. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

“Besides,” Skye whispers. “My doctor took such good care of me, maybe I should reciprocate.” As she’s saying this, she threads rope under and around one of Jemma’s legs once, twice, three times, then between it to tie off. “I know what she needs, I think.” She repeats the same with the other leg, noting that Jemma’s breath has gone shallower with anticipation. “And I think if I take it nice and slow, that’ll be careful enough to follow her instructions.”

“Nice and slow,” Jemma repeats, nodding. Her only thoughts lately have been of Skye, how to help her, how to save her; more than once she worked until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, passed out in the lab or with her head resting on Skye’s hospital bed. She hasn’t had the time to think about _this_ , meaning sex specifically, but now that Skye’s brought it up she realizes how much she’s missed it.

“Right,” Skye agrees. She nods to the ropes – silken, which feels like heaven, and black, to keep with Skye’s usual color scheme – and smoothes Jemma’s hair back. “All good?”

“I am,” Jemma says. “I’m very comfortable.” And very, very helpless. She couldn’t rise from this position even if she wanted to. At least in Skye’s hands, that’s comfortable too.

“Good,” Skye says, scooting behind Jemma and reaching for her hands, arranging them with elbows bent, palms together. “This too?”

Jemma nods again, which Skye takes as permission to wrap the ropes around her chest and waist and shoulders and arms, fixing her wrists and hands together against her all-but-bare back, but by the time it’s done and she’s just that much more immobilized, she’s decidedly more peaceful. Her pulse has calmed, her breathing has quieted, and her eyes are starting to glaze over.

“Mm, much better,” Skye declares, brushing Jemma’s hair back from her throat and kissing the skin beneath her ear.

It makes Jemma wail, which is just what Skye had wanted of course, just what she’d expected, and that turns into a moan and a shiver as Skye starts combing fingers through her hair. “Oh,” she breathes. “Oh, yes.”

“Somebody’s been jonesing for affection, haven’t they?” Skye teases gently. “Good thing I’m in the mood to provide.”

“Yeah,” Jemma whispers, moving her head against Skye’s hand all desperately. “This feels so nice.”

Skye smiles. “Thought you might like it,” she whispers warmly, tugging Jemma’s hair up and securing it at the crown of her head. “And I need to get your hair nice and out of the way for me.”

Jemma’s mouth drops open. That could mean one of a few things, any of which would be very nice and very much something she’s interested in. “Thank you, ma’am,” she says.

Deftly, Skye weaves the ponytail into a braid, secures it, and all the while relishes the little sounds Jemma makes. Every time Skye tugs on her hair, Jemma makes them. “Now,” Skye says once she’s done. She can feel Jemma practically trembling, she presumes with delight, and rests hands on her shoulders to still her. “You know why you’re here, honey?”

“Because…” Here Jemma frowns, searching for the best answer. She knows that there is one, and she does so like to be right. “Because you asked me to be?”

“Yes,” Skye agrees. “I did, but mostly it’s because you’re mine.”

Jemma doesn’t turn to look, but she feels Skye moving away from her and then returning. She feels Skye’s hand brushing against her neck, then the touch of soft leather.

“Do you know what this is?” Skye asks, moving around to face her and holding the collar up.

And her mouth drops. “Ma’am?”

“You did say you wanted one,” Skye teases.

It’s true, she had, late one night as they lay curled up together, in what feels like a different lifetime. Mostly they’d been cataloging things they’d already said they wanted before – gags and different restraints and the like – but Jemma had also offhandedly mentioned that “oh, it’s not necessary, of course, but I would sort of fancy having a collar or some other little proof.” She hadn’t seriously thought… but then…

“I do,” she breathes out. “I want it.”

“Mm, good,” Skye agrees, fastening it around Jemma’s throat as lovingly as she can. “And what does this make you?”

“I’m yours,” Jemma cries out. “I’m all yours, only yours, totally –”

Before she can get any further in her litany, though, Skye hooks a finger through the ring at the front of the collar and tugs Jemma close to kiss her, swallowing up all of her shocked little squeaks.

“You are,” Skye murmurs against Jemma’s mouth.

They know that some of why this works so well is that Skye just likes to be reminded that Jemma’s hers – because she’s used to having what’s hers taken from her, because she genuinely _wants_ Jemma to be hers, more than she’s wanted that of anyone else, because she just gets off on it. Tonight, Skye definitely needs a reminder, of all of this and that (though she’d never abuse it and it was willingly given) she has power over someone. And she needs to see what effect she can have on Jemma’s body and heart, she just _does_.

She slips a hand between Jemma’s legs, and she doesn’t linger for long but she still manages to get Jemma whimpering, “Please, please.”

Jemma needs it too, this sweet, special kind of bond that they have. She needs Skye’s hands all over her, because she almost lost that privilege.

“Please what?” Skye whispers, bringing her fingers to her mouth to suck Jemma’s taste off of them.

“Please, make me – make me even more yours,” Jemma pants. “Irrevocably.”

“Of course,” Skye smirks. “It’s what I brought you here for.”

The collar blocks off a lot of the skin of Jemma’s throat, but that’s all right. The neck is too obvious anyway, too hard to explain away, and this isn’t about proving anything to anyone but the two of them. Instead, Skye takes hold of Jemma’s shoulders, keeps her even stiller than she is already made to be, trails kisses over her collarbone.

“Mm-mm,” Jemma moans. “Yes, please.”

“You have such pretty manners, honey,” Skye declares. “So sweet and polite and _good_.”

Jemma can’t help it, she butts against Skye’s mouth like a kitten, beaming proudly. “Thank you, ma’am,” she says. “I’m glad it makes you happy.”

“It does,” Skye confirms, moving her mouth lower, to the top of Jemma’s breast above the bright pink lace. “Lots of things you do make me happy.”

“Oh,” Jemma whimpers. “Oh, there. There, please.” She lets her head roll back a moment, luxuriating in the feel of Skye’s lips teasing over her skin, before she remembers to add, “Ma’am.”

“There’s my girl,” Skye coos, and without warning she reaches to pull Jemma’s breast free, then thumb at her nipple.

“I am,” Jemma agrees. She feels a bit like one of those old-fashioned pull-string dolls, repeating the same sweet phrases over and over, but it fits and they’re all true and Skye has figured out exactly which strings of hers to pull.

And it’s apparently what Skye wants, because she rewards this affirmation by licking over Jemma’s nipple, then oh-so-gently biting down on it.

This, of course, makes Jemma shriek with delight, loud enough that Skye looks up at her with some amusement and murmurs, “Hey, now. I did get you more new toys, but I don’t wanna give you all of them at once.”

Jemma’s eyes widen, because of course she understands that, but now isn’t the time, Skye’s right, so she presses her lips together obediently, more humming her assent than saying it.

“Good,” Skye says, continuing with her quest to apparently drive Jemma over the edge just by teasing her nipple. She tugs it between her teeth, flicks her tongue over it, giggles wickedly.

And Jemma’s keeping her mouth shut, but a high-pitched keening sound escapes her even still. “Oh, oh, please, yes,” she exclaims.

“Yeah, honey,” Skye assures, going to suck on her girlfriend’s skin hard enough to bruise. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Want – you,” Jemma mutters. “Want you everywhere.”

Skye smiles, presses a kiss against the hickey. It’s always a good clue Jemma’s going under when she’s dropping words, and what’s more it’s just the right request. “Good thing that was my plan.”

She sits up abruptly, drags her nails over the sensitive skin of Jemma’s inner arm, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to leave marks. Jemma squeaks, but she keeps it quiet as she can manage and even turns it to a murmured, “More, please, ma’am.”

“Good, good girl,” Skye whispers, shifting around so she’s behind Jemma. She traces fingertips along the lines of rope crisscrossing Jemma’s arms and chest, teasing the skin.

It’s really a bit excruciating, Jemma thinks, but in the best way. The pressure of the rope means her nerves are heightened, that even the most delicate touch adds to the twisting in her stomach and the throbbing between her legs. What’s more, every touch makes her pull at her bonds and strain to be closer to Skye, however she can. She loves it.

All the while fondling Jemma’s other breast (it wouldn’t do to leave it neglected, after all) Skye leans to drag her teeth over Jemma’s shoulder, scraping gently. It’s out of the way enough that provided Jemma doesn’t suddenly start wearing boatneck sweaters, nobody’s going to know, but Jemma herself will and that’s enough, for both of them.

“You’re gonna be wearing my marks all week,” Skye supposes. “Every time you look in the mirror you’ll see it.”

“And I’ll know that I belong to you,” Jemma breathes.

Skye wraps her arms around Jemma’s waist, strokes over her sides. “No matter what,” Skye agrees. It’s the closest they’ve gotten to having serious forever talk – and now really isn’t the time for that – but it hits both of them just right.

Jemma opens her mouth to respond, but she’s dazed enough that she can’t find the right words; the only thing that slips out is a faint, inarticulate whimper.

That tells Skye about how far down Jemma’s slipped by now, tells her that on one hand she needs to be even more careful and on the other she can ramp it up even more. “You know what else?”

“Huh,” Jemma murmurs, tipping her head back to be just that much closer to Skye.

“I wanna see it too,” Skye whispers.

“Like scribbling your name on me,” Jemma mumbles almost drowsily.

“Yeah, honey, like that,” Skye agrees. She moves to look Jemma in the eye, then kisses her hungrily, fingers tracing the line of the collar.

Jemma moans quietly, lets her eyes flutter shut for a moment, and Skye brushes a thumb over her lips. All of what they do is so personal, but it’s the little pauses that feel the most intimate to Skye. These times when she has Jemma all to herself, making these little nonverbal noises, letting her body fall into Skye’s hands with all the trust in the world, that might be her favorite part.

Or it might be the way that Jemma mews so prettily when Skye puts lips to her skin and downright sucks. That’s pretty good too.

She keeps at it for who knows how long, switching her attention from Jemma’s thighs to her hips to her breasts to her shoulders and then back again. She keeps at it, and after a while she stops trying to right Jemma when she starts falling back and instead settles her gently on the pillows set behind her. Like this, bent nearly parallel with the bed, resting on her bound arms, she looks beautiful. She always looks beautiful, but now it’s overwhelming.

Skye runs her tongue over the row of quickly-purpling hickeys on Jemma’s inner thigh, savoring the stifled wail it elicits. “Hey,” she mumbles. “Hey, Jem?”

“Hnhh?” It can’t even generously be called a word, but it still makes sense to Skye.

“I really love you, okay?” She punctuates it with a kiss to Jemma’s opposite thigh. “I feel like I don’t say that enough, especially lately.” Especially in the wake of everything. “But I… it’s important, I think.” She’s not even sure how much of this Jemma is really hearing, sunk down as she is, but she has to say it. “And I’m so glad that I get to keep loving you. That we get to keep loving each other.”

Jemma doesn’t quite hear the words, but she hears Skye’s tone, the unabashed affection, and she understands it. She understands enough to slur, “Uh-huh, yeah, ma – Skyyye…”

Skye smiles. “Yeah,” she agrees. “And I love that you want me to scribble my name all over you.” She rakes her nails down Jemma’s sides. “I love that you love wearing my evidence.” She kisses the slight red trails. “I love how much you love me. I love you, period.”

Jemma purrs, wiggling her shoulders appreciatively; the sound that falls from her mouth next is mostly vowels, but it’s clearly a “love you, too.” She didn’t doubt that, she never does, but especially when she’s so far gone she does like hearing and feeling it.

“And fuck, honey,” Skye murmurs, voice going husky again. “You’ve been such a good girl.”

“Oh?” Jemma manages, letting her head fall to the side so she can see Skye at least a bit.

“Uh-huh,” Skye agrees. “And good girls get rewarded.” She grins, then moves to wrap her lips around Jemma’s clit.

“Oh,” Jemma shouts.

“Oh, honey,” Skye says against Jemma’s flesh. “Do you know how wet you are? So gorgeously wet, goddamn.”

This pause makes Jemma whimper impatiently, arching her back as demandingly as she can, and Skye giggles, finally taking mercy and pressing her tongue to Jemma’s entrance. So tied as she is, all Jemma can really do is spread her legs a bit farther; her muscles are starting to ache from the strain, but it’s in the nicest, almost warmest way, the way that just feeds her pleasure.

Skye’s hands move to Jemma’s thighs, massaging the oversensitive flesh as she hums softly, appreciatively. Jemma bucks against Skye’s mouth as best she can, but Skye just smiles and presses down on Jemma’s hips to still them.

It will never stop surprising her how good Jemma tastes, from the sweet fruity flavor of her mouth to the saltier one of the rest of her skin; she’s happy to lick her and mouth her and inhale her and just be _with_ her. Like, really happy. She’s tied Jemma up because Jemma is hers, but like this, with Jemma shaking and moaning her name and so fucking _good_ for her, she knows that she belongs to Jemma just as much. It’s as much admiration as it is loving domination.

And apparently it works like a charm on Jemma, ‘cause she tenses in that telltale way in no time and Skye just tightens her grip on Jemma’s hips. She holds Jemma through her orgasm, keeps kissing her through the aftershocks, laps at what remains of her wetness till she’s clean.

Jemma just lies there, bent backward and breathing heavily, flushed and scratched and bitten, and it is almost terrifying how gorgeous she is. Skye doesn’t try to move her for a few minutes, she just rests there between her knees with a grin.

Finally Jemma lifts her head from the pillow, mumbles, “Hello.”

“Hey, honey,” Skye says softly, moving to untie the ropes around Jemma’s legs. “You good?”

Nodding, letting Skye turn her on her side, Jemma agrees, “Yeah-huh, ‘re you?”

Skye sprawls out over Jemma and kisses her shoulder before starting to work at the ropes around her torso. “’Course I am,” she says.

“Good, m’glad,” Jemma whispers.

Neither of them says anything more while Skye unties the knots and loosens the rope, while she pulls it away and drops it to the floor, while she rolls Jemma on her stomach and stretches her out to begin massaging the tension from her muscles. Skye starts in humming again, some song Jemma doesn’t recognize, and Jemma lets out little sighs and moans of relief, but another ten minutes have passed before Jemma’s back in herself enough to ask, “You’re really fine?”

Feeling okay, healthwise; feeling okay, emotionally. Skye gets it. Consolingly, she rubs the flat of her hand across Jemma’s back. “Promise,” she says. Now that she knows Jemma is listening all the way, she feels like she should repeat at least some of what she said before, though they both know it. “I’m pretty lucky, you know.”

“I am, too,” Jemma agrees, turning her head so Skye can see her smile. “Could you…” She lets her eyes dart down. “Knees?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Skye grins, sliding down to press kisses to the backs of Jemma’s knees before kneading over them. “You did so good tonight.”

“Made you happy?”Jemma asks.

“Yes,” Skye exclaims. “Yes, hell yes! Yeah. You’re gorgeous and I love you and you… you have the uncanny ability to make me really stupidly sappy.”

“Shush,” Jemma giggles. “S’not stupid, I like it.”

“Good,” Skye smirks. “I figure there’s a lot more where that came from.”

She leans to press her lips to Jemma’s lower back before shifting around to spoon her, and Jemma moans again, sounding happy and content as anything. “Thank you,” she says.

Skye runs her hand up and down Jemma’s arm, then lingers at the collar still around her neck. _Mine_ , it says, as much for the one wearing it as the one who put it there.

“Can I thank you properly?” Jemma asks in a whisper, sounding so shy it’s clear what she means.

“Hey, you’re the doctor,” Skye teases. “You know better than me if it’s a good idea.”

“It’s the best one,” Jemma says. “I’ll be careful.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Skye murmurs, and she pulls her panties off, swings a leg over Jemma’s hips, shifts to straddle her. She’d be content to just let Jemma – _her_ Jemma – kiss her until they’re tired enough to fall asleep, but somehow she knows that’s not what Jemma wants, and she sure isn’t going to complain, not when Jemma’s arms (still covered in the faintest marks from the rope) oh-so-gently tug her forward.

She stops when Skye’s hovering above her chest, though – it’s not the end destination, of course, but she can’t help it. Her eyes go big as she gazes up at her girlfriend, lets her eyes travel over the scarred-up skin of her stomach, and it’s not like she hasn’t seen the still-so-recent wounds a hundred times before but for some reason doing so _here_ and _now_ and like _this_ takes her breath away. Gingerly, she traces her thumb over the scars; she bites her lip, tries to blink back the tears springing to her eyes.

“Hey,” Skye exclaims, a bit taken aback. “Hey, Jem, Jemma honey, hey, it’s okay.”

“But it very nearly wasn’t,” Jemma whispers. “And I did everything I could but –”

“Ssh, honey,” Skye murmurs, pressing her fingers to Jemma’s lips.

“But I was so terrified of losing you,” Jemma finishes. “I’d never have forgiven myself.”

“Jemma,” Skye repeats, a little more insistently. “Hey, but you didn’t lose me. I’m right here, thanks to you, and I’ve got you and you’ve got me and we’re good. We’re great.”

“I love you,” Jemma says, and quicker than anything she pulls Skye down onto her mouth, drags the flat of her tongue up Skye’s slit fast and desperate. Her hands slip to Skye’s thighs, spreading her even wider, but after a moment Skye smiles softly and grabs her wrists and the message is clear: _just your mouth, honey._

Jemma gets it, and Jemma doesn’t mind it one bit. She shuts her eyes, concentrates on Skye’s pleasure; she takes it a bit easier, slower, like she’s exploring every last millimeter of Skye’s flesh. She mumbles further endearments, too, lips and tongue moving against Skye so passionately.

And the closer that Skye gets, the more affectionate she gets, stroking Jemma’s cheeks and hair and temples, murmuring little affectionate nothings down at her. She rolls her hips, bucks against Jemma’s mouth. She understands exactly why Jemma needs _this_ , and she’s glad, she needs it too, feeling so cared for and genuinely _wanted_.

“Sky-y-ye,” Jemma moans, all muffled and needy. “Skye, please…”

“Please what?” Skye asks with a little smile.

“Will you please come?” Jemma begs. “I wanna feel you come.”

“I could do that for you,” Skye agrees playfully. She laces her fingers with Jemma’s, squeezes tight as Jemma’s attentions to her clit bring her. Jemma, for her part, doesn’t stop licking at Skye until she completely stills, until her grip starts to loosen. She set out with a goal, and she’s going to accomplish it. She’s Skye’s good girl, and Skye deserves that.

This time when she lays down beside Jemma, she reaches behind her neck to unclasp the collar, and once it’s set on the endtable she wraps her arms around Jemma tight. “Good grief, Jem,” she whispers, her breath right over the other girl’s pulse. “You’re perfect.”

“No such thing, really,” Jemma says, “but I’ll settle for being perfect for _you_ , because you’re perfect for me.”


End file.
